


Soldier Boy

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hooray for that, Shower Sex, Some asshole being beaten up till they puke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: Heidi hasn't seen Lucas for a long time, but as she's coming home from work, she sees a commotion at the Baker House and goes to investigate





	Soldier Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request from Haihaimustache, who wanted some Redfield smut. 
> 
> She likes Resident Evil 5 Chris but if you want to imagine Resident Evil 7 Chris that is entirely up to you. 
> 
> This is set after a couple of years after the first fic I wrote for her - link at the start of the story.
> 
> And many apologies about the title. My mind went a bit blank and now all I can think is "Soulja Boy up in this ho" which is actually quite fitting

[If you want to read the first fic, you can find it here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12341178)

 

She missed him - that was the truth.

She'd gotten used to him popping up a couple of times a week. Even now, nearly two years after he'd stopped visiting, Heidi kept expecting Lucas to have left signs of himself in her apartment when she got home from work. She still opened closets expecting him to leap out at her. Still lay in bed some nights when she couldn't sleep, listening out for his stealthy footsteps creeping around. Still got a pang in her pussy when she woke unexpectedly, wanting to feel his hands on their stealth mission under her covers.

He'd never said goodbye - he'd just stopped visiting - and she often wondered if he was dead. That would almost be preferable to the idea that he'd simply gotten bored with her.

She had plucked up the courage to go look for him a few months after his last visit. Parked her car close by and walked up the driveway terrified, but she couldn't bring herself to go past the gate. There was an air of abandonment hanging over the Baker house, but not complete abandonment. It made her think of Shirley  Jackson’s Hill House, and she could well imagine ghosts roaming it's musty corridors. Ghosts or something worse.

Whatever walked there, walked alone.

Or not. Lucas had a family, and she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to them. He'd never talked about it; never even addressed the rumours surrounding his home. He hadn't wanted her to know. But whatever it was she liked to think he'd drawn comfort from her whilst he could. He'd often lingered long after the sex was over, and when he'd left there had been reluctance in his demeanour. Like he'd rather have stayed.

In the end she'd simply gone back to her car, and as she'd driven away she had been certain she was being watched.

 

She was coming home from work. It was a sweltering August afternoon and she was looking forward to getting home, stripping down, and drinking a big glass of lemonade.

It had been an odd kind of day. There had been an air of expectancy hanging over Dulvey, almost like there was a thunderstorm approaching, and she'd been tense all morning, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

The air conditioning in her car was failing, and she wound down her window, rewarded by a hot breeze that flooded in, only marginally cooler than the air inside. She stopped at a red light, and glanced up at the sky, expecting to see towering clouds on the horizon, bringing thunder and lightning, but instead she saw a helicopter, hovering above the vicinity of the swamp like a bird of prey.

It hadn't been the first time she'd seen helicopters there, but it was the first time one had been so low, and she watched with fascination as it hung in the sky.

It was only a car horn honking behind her that jerked her from her gawping, and as she pulled away something possessed her to use her turn signal, and instead of continuing home she began the drive to the Baker house.

 

She didn't get far. There were soldiers blocking the dirt road - men with gas masks and big guns standing and watching her approach with unseen eyes. The sight of them filled her with with a surreal kind of horror. They had no place in the bayou: The swamp had always struck her as timeless, sealed in a bubble that the real world couldn't pierce, and their presence amongst the old trees and the haze of flying bugs was almost blasphemous. She stopped her car, and stared at the soldiers for a precious few seconds before reaching a decision. 

She put the car in reverse and looked back over her shoulder,  gunning the engine, but never got to back up. There were two more soldiers behind her, implacable and robotic, guns held up like they meant business, and though a wild part of her urged her to step on the gas, the sensible librarian part hesitated.

A shadow fell over her and she looked up just as a hand reached through her window and turned the key in the ignition. In the ensuing silence, she could hear gunfire coming from the house, the sound of splintering masonry, and a swelling,  improbable shrieking that tore the air apart.

“Could you step out of the car please, Ma’am?” said the nearest soldier, his voice muffled and nasal through the mask, and she obeyed with thinking, getting out of the car on legs that suddenly felt too weak to support her.

“What's going on?” she asked, her voice trembling like her legs. “What's that  _ noise _ ?”

“That's classified,” said the man. “Could you turn around and place your hands on the car roof?”

“Am I under arrest? I haven't done anything!”

But she was turning away, the authority of a uniformed man with a gun undeniable, and she reached up to place her palms on the scalding metal of her car, listening to the unearthly sounds of something ripped from the bowels of hell that all but drowned out the sound of the helicopter blades.

“Oh my god, what  _ is  _ that?”

“You're perfectly safe Ma’am,” said the man. “We just need to check -”

The air split apart and there was a blinding flash, and Heidi ducked her head, pulling her arms in to cover it. The man behind her had begun to frisk her, patting down her sides, but at the sudden din he pushed her up against the car, covering her with his bulk, and she cowered beneath her man-shield, wondering if the world was ending.

 

There were tents around the overgrown lawn, sprouting up like khaki coloured mushrooms, and soldiers walking back and forth. The smell of gunpowder and something else, some metallic kind of heat, was choking in the air she breathed, and Heidi tottered between her escorts looking around her uncomprehendingly. Walkie-talkies squawked from all sides, tinny voices blending together, and despite her terror Heidi was glad when she was guided into one of the tents, the dim hush inside filtering out some of the confusion.

“Am I under arrest?” she asked again, aware of how plaintive her voice sounded, and though nobody had answered her so far, this time she got a reply.

“No, Ma’am, you are not. This is just a precaution. Sit down. Someone will be with you very soon.”

She sat, not knowing what else to do, and the soldiers withdrew. She could see their silhouettes outside, lurking just outside the tent flaps, and looked around her for a possible means of escape.

She had absolutely no clue what was going on, and that was the most terrifying thing. There had been a brief military presence after the storm back in 2014, but it had been far more casual, the soldiers providing aid rather than enforcement, and the ones she had encountered had been much more friendly.

She waited. And waited. And waited some more. She dozed in the muggy gloom, her head nodded on her breast as the light outside faded, and it was only the sound of nearby voices that brought her out of her impromptu nap.

There was movement outside, and the tent flaps parted, birthing yet another soldier, but this one was unmasked, and her heart gave another little leap in her chest. This leap wasn't fear, though: This guy was a hottie.

There was a folding table in front of her, with another chair opposite, but the new arrival didn't sit. Instead, he stood behind it, looking down at her with a frown as if he couldn't work out what to make of her.

She stared back at him in silence, wanting to say something to break the awkward silence, but her throat felt dry as dust and the croak that she would have produced would only increase her discomfort.

“Why are you here?” he asked finally, and she got the sense that he was impatient. He clearly had other fish to fry, and her presence was a distraction.

“I was brought here,” she said, trying hard to swallow even though her mouth had no saliva. “Those soldiers….”

He waved her comment away.

“Why are you  _ here _ ?” he repeated. “At this location. Now. Why did you come?”

“I saw the helicopter. I was curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he said.

“Satisfaction brought it back,” she countered, and his face relaxed slightly, something that was nearly a smile touching his lips.

He pulled the chair out and sat down heavily.

“Did you know the family that lived here?” he asked.

“The Bakers?” she asked.

He nodded.

“I knew one. Lucas,” she said. “Though I haven't seen him for a while.”

He tensed at Lucas’s name, almost a flinch.

“How long is it since you last saw him?” he asked.

Heidi shrugged.

“A couple of years maybe,” she said.

“Only a couple? Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. Why? Has something happened?”

“You could say that. When you last saw Lucas, how was he? Did he seem strange at all? Was he violent? Unpredictable?”

Heidi thought back to the last time she'd seen him.

He'd been hiding under her bed, waiting for her, and she'd spent an entire evening watching TV before he'd made his presence known, grabbing her ankle as she got undressed. She'd shrieked - an embarrassing, high-pitched utterance that had made him laugh even as he crawled out from under, and he'd bowled her over in her weakened state, tumbling her onto the bed, showering her with the dust kitties that clung to his clothing. He'd been unpredictable, yes, but that was how she'd liked him. That had been the whole appeal.

“He was never violent,” she said, avoiding the last question. “He never hurt me.”

“How did you know him?” asked the man.

She shrugged, feeling a little bashful.

“I don't know how you'd describe us,” she admitted. “We had a…. _ thing _ , I guess.”

“You were lovers?”

He was watching her keenly now with an alertness that broke through his weariness, and he leaned forward across the table.

“Lovers?” she laughed. “Does anyone still use that term?”

“Miss, please - answer my question. Did you ever have sexual intercourse with Lucas Baker in the last three years?”

Heidi felt her face grow warm. She was blushing, goddammit.

“Yes!” she blurted. “We’d do it a couple of times a week. He'd come to my house at night. Lasted 6 months, maybe, then he just stopped coming….”

She trailed off. The man was on his feet, talking urgently into the Walkie-talkie clipped to his vest.

“We need a medical team in tent number 9. Now!”

“What's going on?” she asked, fear tingling through her limbs once more. “A medical team? What the fuck?”

Footsteps approaching, tramping outside, and two men and a woman entered the tent, dressed in white overalls like the forensics team she'd seen when the guy in the apartment opposite hers had died mysteriously.

“Redfield, what's up?” one of the newcomers asked.

“This woman had sex with Lucas Baker after he was infected,” snapped Redfield, and Heidi felt her blush increase as three pairs of eyes turned towards her.

“We need to find out if the infection was transferred, and we need to do it quickly.”

“Infection? What infection? Will someone please tell me what's going on?”

The woman beckoned her forward, her eyes somewhat kinder than the ones Heidi had seen so far.

“Come with us, hon. We just need to do a few tests.”

 

They took her away - took samples of her blood, studied them under microscopes. They x-rayed her, put her in an MRI scanner “Just to make sure”. They did a whole array of mysterious tests that she had no clue even existed, but the one thing they didn't do was answer her questions.

Afterwards, when the tests were completed, they took her to a quiet room to stew and she sat there in her gown tied at the back and her mind in a turmoil.

She didn't feel infected. She was as healthy as she ever was. In the past two years she'd had a couple of colds and come down with some kind of stomach virus, but other than that? Nothing.

She wondered if it was some kind of silent disease, something that would lurk in the bloodstream or the cells of her body for years before becoming full blown. She wondered if, at this very moment, there was bacteria in her system cooking up something deadly that would flare up like the eruption of a dormant volcano and flood her body to fatal effect.

It was unbearable. They'd given her magazines - mindless distractions that wouldn't distract her even on a good day - and though she turned the glossy pages she saw none of the words or the pictures they bore. All she could see in her mind’s eye was something that looked like a gremlin, microscopic and reproducing, sitting at her brainstem gathering it's comrades about it.

Redfield’s arrival was a huge relief, the smile on his face an even greater one, and Heidi felt faint as he approached her.

“Good news! You're all clear,” he told her, and though she could have kissed him at that moment her grim reality hadn't escaped her.

“But clear from what? Nobody has told me anything? What did Lucas have?”

She was angry now she had the time to be. The immediate danger was gone and she was  _ pissed _ .

Redfield’s expression sobered, and he nodded at her.

“I'm sorry. We've had a lot to deal with round here, and until we could be sure you were okay it wouldn't have been a good idea to interact with you. Someone will bring you your clothes soon, and once you're dressed we can talk.”

 

Another room. Another chair, another table. This one had carpet and a potted fern, and a watercooler in the corner which Heidi used to water the ailing plant. Its foliage was browned at the edges. They'd neglected it's care as much as they had hers.

Redfield joined her after a while, bearing a folder. He'd taken off his body armour, and despite her simmering anger she could still appreciate the way he filled out the t-shirt that had been hiding underneath, and the muscles that bulged in his arms.

“Heidi,” he said, and she wondered when he'd found out her name. Nobody had asked her it.

“Yes, we know who you are now. We know where you live, how old you are. We know that you work at the library.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

He was succeeding, but he shook his head.

“That was never our intention. Heidi - can I call you Heidi?”

She nodded, her dismay making her dumb for a moment.

“And I'm Redfield. Chris Redfield. You can call me Chris. I imagine you're wondering what the hell has been going on, and I'm going to tell you - some of it, at least - but not until you've signed a confidentiality agreement. Are you prepared to do that?”

“If it gets me answers, yes,” she said, holding out her hand.

He handed her a close typed sheet of paper, and she scanned it. There was a lot of legal talk involved, but the gist of it was that she would keep her mouth shut about what was divulged or she would face prison. She signed it anyway. It was killing her not knowing, and there was nobody in Dulvey she knew well enough to tell her secrets.

“I'm listening,” she said as she handed it back. “Tell me.”

“Do you remember the storm back in 2014?” he began.

“Hell yeah. Fucked up the library. Was a long time till we could rebuild properly. What about it?”

“The storm brought a lot of destruction, as you know, but it also brought something else. There was a freight ship called the Annabelle, and it was transporting some dangerous cargo. There was an explosion on board, and the ship ended up getting grounded in the swamp. The Bakers found it, and what was inside found them.”

“This is a great story, Chris. Really well told. Enthralling, even. You got suspense, and mystery, and some innocent protagonists. But do me a fucking favour and tell it to me straight. What was the cargo and what did it fucking do to my friend?”

“I can't tell you what the cargo was. Not exactly. But it was bad news. It carried an infection -”

“What, like a virus? Is that it? Is there some kind of fucking disease waiting to kill all the folk in Dulvey?”

“No. It was contained on the Baker property. And it wasn't a virus. It was more of a fungus. A mold.”

“Killer mushrooms,” snorted Heidi. “Okay, go on.”

“The Bakers fell prey to the infection. It took ahold of Jack Baker, Marguerite Baker, and your friend Lucas….”

He winced at having to speak Lucas’s name, like it had a nasty taste, and if she weren't sure he could have beaten her to a pulp with one hand Heidi would have leaned across the table and smacked him.

“Don't you look like that when you say his name,” said Heidi, her hands clenching on the table top.

Redfield looked at her with mild surprise.

“That offends you? Fuck.”

The businesslike attitude he'd been projecting had wavered, and he shook his head as though clearing his thoughts.

“Look, I'm sorry. But if you had any idea what that guy has put me through today…..”

He took a deep breath.

“Zoe Baker managed to avoid getting fully infected. She's safe now. Cured. But she's lived in hell these past three years. Her family went crazy. Violent. Murderous. No! Don't say anything. You don't know the facts. People have died, Heidi, and your boyfriend was part of it!”

Heidi shut her mouth. She had been about to object, but the look on his face would have stopped her even if his voice hadn't. 

“The infection took over and turned them into monsters. They kidnapped people and killed them in their basement. We don't even know how many victims there were at this point, and you're lucky you weren't one of them. Do you understand? They had a murder factory in there. Now. It seems that at some point Lucas had some kind of partial cure administered. It meant he was still infected, but not under the influence of the….cargo. From what you've said, and from your reaction when we discuss him, we can only assume that he was stable during this time. Which is lucky for you. But it didn't last. Whether it was the infection, or whether it was the lack of social constraints we don't know, but he went bad, Heidi. He started to enjoy it. He set up games in the barn, ones that could only end in death. He tortured people. Played with them, like that guy in the Saw movies. He filmed it, for fuck’s sake! And when we stepped in to put an end to it all, he killed three of my men. In horrible ways. And he made me watch.”

He held her gaze for a moment, blue eyes boring into her dark ones, and she had to turn away.

“Tried to kill me, too. This very afternoon, before I met you.”

“What happened to him?” she asked dully, though she was scared she knew already. “Has he….is he getting help?”

“He was beyond help, Heidi. I went in there to arrest him, but in the end, he had to die.”

 

The world went blank for a while. Fuzzy around the edges. She was aware of Chris trying to hand her a cup of water, but she was confused as to why. Why did people for that? Give water, like it would help? She wanted something stronger.

She took it anyway, sipped at it, the plastic cup crinkling in her hands.

“He wasn't bad,” she said.

She was talking to herself but Chris was there to hear it, and when he answered her she felt like he was intruding.

“Maybe not when you knew him.”

“Fuck off,” she told him, no strength behind it.

“Maybe you just brought out the good in him,” said Chris.

“Oh! That would be a nice fucking fairy tale!”

“Okay. So maybe he wasn't bad. But maybe he was getting that way and he knew it. You said he'd stopped coming to see you? I think he knew if he kept coming he'd end up hurting you, and he knew enough to stay away. You should hold onto that.”

“I want to go home,” said Heidi. “I don't want to be here anymore.”

“Of course. We'll take you back. Do you need anything?”

“I need for all this not to have happened!” she said. “I don't know what you've been told, Chris, but Lucas Baker wasn't a bad man. People didn't like him. Made up stuff about him. But he wasn't like that at the start. And now he's dead because of stuff that wasn't his fault and that's a fucking tragedy. Take me home.”

 

Back at home in her apartment Heidi dug through her cupboards. She wanted to get drunk, to drown her bad feelings, but she had nothing stronger than beer to do it with.

She found something else, though - a scrap of paper she'd left for Lucas right at the beginning of their adventure, a note he'd signed with a smiley face, and looking at those two dots with an upswept line beneath them made her feel like she was going to choke. She felt trapped in her apartment with all hope gone. She'd never find new evidence of his presence. Never set eyes on him again, and all the places he'd lurked during their weird relationship felt haunted now.

She grabbed her purse and left her home. She was going to get wasted.

 

Heidi didn't know how much she'd drunk and she'd dulled the edge of the grief she was feeling, but not enough. She didn't understand what had upset her so much about Lucas being dead. She'd liked him, yes, but she hadn't been in love, and she hadn't seen him for two years.

Maybe it was finding out what he'd been going through all that time - the unfairness of the fact that something had fucked him up so badly that the only solution was to put him down like a rabid dog. Or maybe it was what Chris had said - about him staying away because he didn't want to hurt her. That there had been enough left in him of himself to recognise the dangers and choose to spare her.

She didn't know. All she knew was that there was a wrenching ache in her stomach that the alcohol wasn't curing, but that wasn't going to stop her from drinking more.

She ordered another. She hadn't left her barstool since she'd got there, and the bartender was watching her when he had the chance. She firmly believed there was a psychologist in every member of bar staff - that their experience of humanity was enough to give them instinctive knowledge about passing strangers from their behaviour, and she had no doubt she was setting off alarm bells. He didn't try to talk to her though, beyond fleeting small remarks and niceties, and for that she was grateful.

There was someone else watching her though, a man at the other end of the bar, and every time she tilted her drink to her lips she thought he smiled.

Fucking creep. She was in no mood to be stared at, flattering though it might be. He probably thought she was an easy target: A lone, depressed,  _ drinking _ woman who would be so grateful of a little attention she'd fall into his arms and onto his dick at the slightest opportunity. Well he could fuck himself, was what he could do.

She ordered another drink, and now the bartender looked worried, though he sold her it. She stared at him with bleary eyes.

“I know what you're thinking,” she said. “But a friend of mine died today. Don't try and give me a pep talk.”

He gave her a single curt nod of understanding and moved away.

She snorted. That had been easier than she'd expected.

 

The wall felt cool and good behind her back and she leaned against it for a spell, tilting her head to look up into the single, unforgiving eye that was the moon. It looked cold and uncaring, but she didn't give a shit what the moon thought.

She had to get home. The world was spinning too fast beneath her feet, and she felt like it would tip her off if she moved too soon. Someone passing by laughed, and it could have been at her.

She lurched away from the building, steadying herself. So far so good. Her steps were like that of a toddler learning to walk, but just as she was getting the hang of there was someone at her elbow and she was filled with unreasonable irritation.

“Hey. Y’all need a hand?”

For a second she thought it was Lucas,  but the voice was too deep, and she felt cheated. All the accents round here were the same. What had she been thinking?

“I'm good, thanks,” she said, but the person didn't move away.

“I been watchin’ you tonight. Like me a girl who can drink.”

“Bar’s a good place for that,” she said, hoping she was dismissive enough.

Apparently not.

“Shame you were drinkin’ alone, though. Was gonna come over ‘n’ offer you some company.”

“I'd have declined,” said Heidi. “Not in the mood.”

“Aw, come on! I don't believe that. I've seen you around. Full o’ life ‘n’ real friendly. You wanna be  _ my  _ friend, sugar? I'm real friendly too.”

“No thanks.”

She felt like she was going to puke and this guy wasn't helping. He smelled like sour beer with a side note of piss, and the combination stung the back of her throat.

“Ain't no need to be like that,” he said, and if she hadn't been so drunk she would have heard the underlying threat. But even sober it probably wouldn't have made a difference.

“Look, I appreciate the attention but I'm not in the mood. I just wanna go home and sleep, so do you think you could leave me the fuck alone?”

She heard the slap before she felt it, and when the sting came she was vaguely confused as to where it had come from. Her hand drifted to her her cheek, and when she tried to walk forward he was there, blocking her.

“Don't you talk to me like that.”

His voice was a growl, and she realised she was in trouble. Her fuddled mind searched for a response, but none was forthcoming, and she stood swaying with her mouth open as he stepped in closer.

“Hey….”

It was all she could manage before he had grabbed her, hands bunching into her blouse with such ferocity that a button popped off. He was jostling her backwards, guiding her stumbling feet,  and she braced herself against him. She wasn't a small woman, and if he thought he was going to whisk her away to some dark alley he was mistaken.

“Move, bitch!”

His spit landed on her face and she wiped it away in rage, ducking her shoulder and thrusting it into him. She felt him stagger, and fierce joy filled her.

His foot was there, tangling in between hers, and his elbow rammed into her stomach, throwing her off balance. There was a weird rushing noise in her ears and a swooping sensation all around her and she flailed as the spin of the earth became too much.

Her back hit the ground, knocking the air from her, and she felt his weight fall on her, one knee between hers.

“No!”

She tried to lift her head, but something slammed against her forehead.

“Shut the fuck up…” he hissed, his stinking breath filling her mouth, and she gagged at the taste.

She heard him laugh, and hit out, changing the sound of mirth to one of pain as her fist struck something that caved in under her knuckles. He spluttered above her and she lifted her unpinned knee as hard as she could, feeling it connect squarely between his thighs. He made a sound like a football deflating, and this time the laughter she heard was her own, cackling out of her with demented triumph. She could barely think straight but she brought her knee up a second time, pushing up at the same instant and suddenly his weight was off her and she could breathe again.

She retched, rolling onto her side, and through the dancing stars in her vision saw her assailant lying on his back, hands bundled between his legs, looking up with an expression of sick terror on his face.

“Hey! I didn't mean nothin’ by it….” he wheezed in the second before a fist landed in his face.

“Huh?”

Heidi heaved herself up onto her elbow. There was another man there, a dark hulk hunched over the man on the ground, and as she watched he pulled back his elbow and punched her assailant again.

The shadow shifted, his face illuminated by moonlight, and Heidi found herself laughing again, a shrill sound just the wrong side of hysteria.

It was Chris Redfield, the man who had killed Lucas, and he was all lit up in silvery moonbeams like some kind of fairy saviour.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, and Heidi clutched at her stomach.

Her laughter was making her feel sick but she couldn't stop, and Chris stared down at her in bemusement, then some kind of tangled understanding.

“I saw you were in some trouble,” he said. “Was coming over to help. Though it looks like you didn't need any….You did good, kid.”

“I ain't no kid!” she objected, hissing out the dregs of her laughter. “And I need all the help I can get. I'm about to pee my pants. Hit him again!”

He smirked, white teeth showing briefly, and did as he was told, pummelling the man in the stomach.

“Hit him till he pukes!” she croaked, rolling into a sitting position. “Bastard was trying to rape me!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Chris, and grabbed the man by his shirt front, yanking him partially of the ground.

Heidi winced as she heard bones crackle,  and a gout of blood spurted from the downed man's nose. He was trying to speak, to beg perhaps, but Chris’s next punch hit him in the mouth.

“One more for luck!” cheered Heidi. “He hasn't puked yet.”

Chris nodded and aimed for his gut again, and the man let out a loud belch. Chris jumped back as vomit splattered the ground near his feet - a flood of beer and blood and a couple of broken teeth.

She had stopped laughing now, and the reality of what had happened was hitting her like Chris Redfield’s fist.

“Oh god…” she moaned. “I think I'm gonna throw up….”

“No you're not,” said Chris. “You're gonna be okay, Heidi. Come on, let's get you up.”

He put his hands under her arms and lifted with a grunt of effort, and suddenly she was on her feet again. God he was strong, she thought randomly.

He was studying her face with genuine concern, and she had such a mixture of emotions that she couldn't make sense of any of them.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I was worried about you,” he said. “I thought you might do something silly. And I felt responsible.”

“I want to go home,” she said, realising it was the second time that day she had said those words to him.

“I know. I'll take you there.”

 

She did throw up, despite his assurance. Some of it was because of the trauma, and some of it the effects of the booze.

She did it by the roadside, feeding some bushes whilst he rubbed her between her shoulder blades.

She felt stupid and ugly for doing it, but the relief was immediate, and she found some Kleenex in her purse to clean her face with.

He didn't say anything judgemental, and she was glad. She didn't know how she would have responded if he had.

She let herself into her apartment, slapping the light switch with more force than it deserved.

“You wanna come in?”

She was desperately tired now, and thought of having him there to watch over her while she slept gave her immeasurable comfort.

“I don't know…..” He said.

“Oh, c’mon. I got a couch. And you don't want me choking on my own vomit in my sleep….”

She sniggered at her own crude cunning as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

He seemed bigger in her hallway, a solid mountain of a man, his shoulders nearly filling the space from the perspective of her drunken libido. He was a damn fine specimen, she couldn't deny it, and it gave her a pleasurable little tingle right down to her toes.

“I better clean myself up,” she mumbled, and made her way to her bathroom, pinging back and forth between the walls like a squishy pinball.

She was too tired to shower, but she managed to wash her face and clean her teeth to the best of her ability,  and was unbuttoning her shirt even as she stumbled out.

Chris was ensconced on her couch, leafing through one of the books from her shelf. It was To Kill a Mockingbird, a book she hadn't looked at in years, and she was surprised at his interest. He didn't strike her as a reader.

“Always loved this book,” he said without looking up. “Haven't read it since...

High school? Maybe?”

“I like it too,” she said, standing in the doorway with her blouse undone, swaying back and forth. “I should read it again.”

“Looks like you left it halfway through,” said Chris. “You left a marker in it.”

He was holding the book open, and there was a folded scrap of paper tucked into the pages, firmly enough that it hadn't fallen out when he'd picked it up. Heidi took a step forward. Her lips felt numb suddenly, her face cold. She never deserted a book halfway through, and any marker she'd left would have been sticking out of the top.

“Can I see that?” she asked, and he plucked it out, holding it up to her with only a flicker of surprise at her state of undress.

She unfolded the paper, and caught her breath at the sight of the familiar scrawl on it.

_ “Dear Hai,” _ it read.  _ “Leaving this here cuz I know it's one of your favorite books. Can only hope you'll read it soon & find this. I’m gonna have to stop seeing you. Maybe after next time. Maybe the time after that. I don't know. I'm going through some stuff that's hard to deal with & I don't want you to get involved. You might get hurt & I don't want that to happen. But even if you don't see me again, I'll still be watching over you, don't worry about that. So if someone else should come along to take my place, don't be scared to let them in. You need someone who can be there for you & that someone ain't never gonna be me. _

_ We've had some good times tho. I've enjoyed it. But you gotta forget about me & move on. You have a good life, Hai. _

_ Lucas _

_ P.S. Don't even think about coming looking for me. You stay away from the house. I mean it.” _

Chris was watching her, eyes carefully averted from her chest, and she felt her hand clench, crumpling the paper in it.

It was a sign, she thought. A sign that Lucas had left for her because he'd foreseen this situation and wanted her to know he approved.

She staggered forward with a sigh, arms held out, ignoring the look of alarm on Chris’s face as she enveloped him. His stubbled chin rasped against her partially exposed left breast, and she squeezed his head against her, smothering him.

“Heidi!”

His voice was muffled, his breath hot on her skin, but in a half swoon she felt his hands come up and grasp her waist.

“Yes….” she murmured dreamily, feeling her knees sag.

“Heidi, no!”

He was pulling her away, yanking back his head, and she stared at him in confusion.

“What….? Don't you want to?”

He stood, towering over her like some kind of godly monolith, and she felt her lips pucker up, ready for a kiss.

“Heidi, you're drunk,” he said gently. “You’ve had a terrible experience and some bad news all in the same day, and it's natural you should want some comfort. But this isn't the right way.”

“Shut up and kiss me!” she insisted. “It's what Lucas would have wanted.”

“You need to go to bed and get some rest,” said Chris. “Things will seem clearer in the morning,  and we can talk then.”

She stared at him. Easy tears were brimming in her eyes, and she sniffed. She was being rejected, after all that had happened?

“You don't like me!” she wailed. “You saw me throw up and now you don't like me!”

“Heidi, I like you a lot, but you're not thinking straight now. Please - get some sleep.”

She pushed him away - or at least she tried, but it was like trying to move her apartment building. Furious and humiliated, she backed away, the snivels that wanted to burst out drying up before they had properly started. God, she was tired. And hungry. She needed a burger or something.

She turned towards her kitchen, meaning to fetch a snack, but Chris’s hands were back, taking her by the elbows and steering her towards her bedroom from behind.

He must have changed his mind, she thought, and let him guide her till her knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Okay, let's do this,” she said, falling forward, and was asleep moments after she hit the mattress, Lucas’s note still clasped in her hand.

 

She had a blissful moment when she woke up before all the events of the previous day caught up with her, and she lay with her face in the pillow, wondering why her mouth was so dry.

She rolled onto her back, wincing at the light prying it's fingers between her curtains, and gasped with shock as she saw the bulk of the man huddled up, sleeping, in the chair next to the bed.

He was hunched over awkwardly, his arms folded across his his chest, his chin dropped down onto his shoulder, and the sight of him brought everything back in a hot burst of embarrassment.

Oh god….

She put her hands over her face, remembering what she'd said, remembering what she'd  _ done _ . Holy shit.

She quickly took stock of her condition. The covers had been pulled over her, but she was mostly dressed beneath even though her shirt was open. One breast lolled out of her bra, nipple peeking out of the cup, and she hastily tucked herself back in.

There was a bruise on her midriff, just above her navel, in the vague shape of a fist, and she remembered the man grabbing her, thrusting his clenched hand into her middle as he tried to take her away. Bastard.

She tried to sit up, and her head whirled at the movement. There was a queasy throb behind her eyes that promised to become a full-blown headache if she didn't do something about it, but in her current state she didn't think she'd make it to her bathroom cabinet.

She looked helplessly to one side, and there, sitting on her nightstand, was a large glass of water and a couple of small white pills.

She snatched them up in relief, cramming them into her mouth, washing them and their bitter taste down with the water. It was tepid but good, and she drank it all without stopping, panting as she drained the last drops.

Lucas's note was there on the nightstand too, the creases smoothed out, the ink blurred from sweat and desperation. It gave her a pang if sorrow to see it, but one that was not as strong as she expected.

Chris was still sleeping. She guessed as a soldier he was accustomed to snatching naps in awkward places, but she still felt bad for him. Would have been more comfortable in her bed….

She cringed at the sodden memories of last night, and slid down under her covers again.

 

The second waking was more pleasant than the first, but this time Chris was absent.

The chair was empty but for her copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, and though she was relieved that she wouldn't have to discuss the embarrassment of last night, she was also disappointed: Chris was the definition of eye candy as far as she was concerned, and he would have been a treat for her tired eyes.

She rolled out of bed, blouse flapping like a cape around her, and stumbled towards the bathroom. She needed more aspirin, more water, and to pee, and then she'd be able to think straight.

She burst through the bathroom door and stopped short. The little room was filled with steam and was as muggy as a rainforest, and she blinked in confusion. The shower was running. She'd heard it subliminally, she realised, but hadn't paid any attention, and as the breeze from the opened door shifted the swirls of mist she discovered she had some more embarrassment to add to the previous night’s.

Chris was in the shower, broad back to her, vigorously scrubbing suds of shampoo into his hair, and Heidi felt her mouth drop open.

The muscles on his biceps rippled, white curds of bubbles taking a slow and circuitous path around their contours as he rinsed. The glass shower door was cloudy, but she could see enough to make out the shape of him in there, beads of water clinging to his tanned skin, his ass like a pair of restrained boulders as he changed position.

She took a step back, meaning to sneak out before he noticed her presence, but the introduction of cooler air to the bathroom finally filtered into his consciousness and he turned, peering over his shoulder. There was soap in his eyes and the shower spray was directly in his face, but her silhouette was unmistakable in the doorway and Heidi waited for the ground to swallow her up whilst simultaneously helping herself to a surreptitious peek at his front side.

There was a smudge of bubbles on the inside of the shower door, but it didn't obscure everything, and she eyed the solid expanse of his six back, the water streaming into the hair in his belly.

“Heidi?”

He spat water out, rubbed at his eyes.

“I'msorryIthoughtyou’dgone,” she babbled in a rush. “And the lock doesn't work and I had to pee….”

She trailed off. He was making no effort to cover himself and the cluster of bubbles hiding the best part from her was sliding slowly down the glass.

“I, uh….I'll leave, I guess?”

“You don't have to. It's your bathroom,” he said. “You waiting for the shower?”

“Well, I could use one,” she admitted.

She was beginning to wonder whether she hadn't woken up and that she was somewhere in the midst of a confusing erotic dream. There was a naked man in her shower, and he was chatting to her about bathroom rotas.

He nodded. She was trying hard not to stare, but it was almost impossible. Her eyes were drawn to the clouded glass as though it had some sort of gravitational pull.

“Well, don't let me stop you,” he said. “There's plenty of room in here.”

Heidi blinked. She had to be dreaming.

He was smiling at her, a small secretive grin that made her think he might be joking, but he stretched out a hand and pushed the shower door open.

Heidi gawped for a second, taking in the trunks of his thighs, the mop of pubic hair and the thick, semi-hard length of his cock. He was tanned all over but for a pale band around his hips and down to the tops of his thighs.

“Chris? About last night….”

She was stalling, but he didn't seem.to mind.

“You don't have to worry about that guy looking for any kind of payback,” said Chris. “I had my men pick him up and deal with him. He won't bother you again.”

“Well, that's good, but I actually meant the other thing…”

“You don't have to apologise,” he said quickly.

“I….wasn't going to. But it was pretty embarrassing.”

“You don't have to be embarrassed,” he said.

“Yes I do! I came onto you and you turned me down. What am I meant to think now?”

“Of course I did! You were drunk. What kind of man would I have been if I took advantage of you in that state? Besides: look at me, Heidi. Do I look like I'm undecided? I'm not just being polite.”

She looked. His cock twitched, a brief push-up that swelled and filled it, and Heidi shrugged off her shirt without further delay. She felt dizzy and confused from the remnants of alcohol in her system but if the day ever came when she'd decline an invitation like that from a veritable man mountain, it would be the day her relatives would be choosing her coffin.

Water spattered onto the tiled floor as as she struggled out of her jeans, nearly toppling as she yanked them off her ankles. He was watching her with flattering interest, his dick growing fuller and meatier as she unhooked her bra, and by the time her panties dropped to the floor it was an impressive size, rising up towards his belly.

Heidi all but leapt into the shower stall, shutting the door behind her, sealing them both in their damp closet.

Up close, his nudity was formidable, and she hung back, suddenly uncertain, but as the spray seeped into her hair he cradled the back of her head with one massive hand.

“You had to know I liked you,” he said.

“Nuh-uh. It's news to me,” she admitted.

“Then maybe this will convince you….”

He leaned down to kiss her but she giggled, spluttering water.

“What?” he demanded.

“Do you read a lot of romance, Chris? Cuz that dialogue is straight from a Danielle Steele novel…”

His face creased in annoyance.

“Are you going to shut up so I can fuck you?” he said.

She clapped her hands together with glee.

“Oh yeah! That's more like it!”

He kissed her before she could say anything else, blocking out any other words with his tongue. She reached out for him, her hands encountering a wall of wet skin and taut flesh and she let her hands slither over it in bliss. There was so much of him to appreciate and she intended to deal with as much of him as she could in the time she had.

She pressed herself up against him. She felt soft and malleable in his arms compared to his hardness and the contrast was compelling. He seemed to like the difference as much as she did and his own hands wandered, palms sliding down her back, fingers seeking out the generous curve of her ass.

She took a hold of his cock, unable to resist any longer, and gave a muffled exclamation which was swallowed by the cave of his mouth. He pulled his lips away from hers.

“What?” he asked.

Heidi goggled down at the impressive shaft in her hand.

“Oh my gawwwwd!” she said. “It's like a baby's arm!”

He laughed, but she noticed he grew stiffer yet in her grasp.

“For God's sake, don't pinch me, Chris - if I'm dreaming I don't wanna wake up….”

He urged her back against the wall, her ass against the tiles, and groped between her legs. Strong fingers found her clit, crawled further down to her pussy. He hooked them into her, prying her apart, buying them deep inside.

His body shielded her from the shower’s stream, and she wriggled in the shelter he'd created, rising up on her toes as his digits flexed inside her.

His free hand cupped a breast, gathering the soft mound into his palm, and he leaned down, licking the water from its top, running his tongue down to her nipple. A shudder ran through her as his lips closed around it, pulling it into his mouth. He sucked, wringing a little moan from her that vibrated down into her chest.

His wet hair was just underneath her chin and he smelled like her own coconut scented shampoo, something which would have made her giggle if he wasn't finger fucking her with a slow intensity. His thumb grazed her clit, and she flinched, squeezing her fingers with her pussy walls. She hadn't known it was possible for someone to have such powerful muscle behind their thumb, but she felt like Chris could have lifted her up with just that.

He didn't have the rough enthusiasm she'd been used to with Lucas - Lucas had been rambunctious and flighty, tumbling onto her with the force of an excitable tornado, fucking her in a flurry of limbs and tongue and stiff dick. He had provided orgasms that were as sudden and unexpected as explosions, coming out of left field and shocking her into spasms.

Chris, on the other hand, was steady and methodical, working at her with the stolid dedication of his soldier background. He was thorough, approaching each part of her with a concentration that wore her down gradually, melting her from the core outwards. He rolled his tongue around her nipple, tugging with his lips, releasing it to nip at the underside of her breast before returning to suck again. He was testing her reactions, finding out what she liked, and she gasped, clutching at his shoulders when he used his teeth gently, trapping the swollen flesh and attacking it with the tip of his tongue.

It was slow yet powerful, and his thumb dug between her lips. She didn't want him to stop his sucking but she was dying to feel his mouth down there. The man had to have a healthy appetite, she thought, and he could no doubt eat to fill an army. She pushed her hips towards him, grinding onto his thumb. He was in no hurry, though, switching his attention to her other breast, pushing up with his fingers.

“Aw, c’mon, man…” she groaned. “I’m dying here! Don't know how long my legs will hold out.”

It was true - her legs were shaking under the effort of supporting her, and he chuckled, finally raising his head.

“Maybe we should go lie down,” he suggested, but she shook her head vigorously, shedding water from her hair.

“No!” she said. “I want you here! Just help me out.”

He withdrew his fingers, making her feel empty and at a loss, but as she opened her mouth to protest he went down on his knees, splatting into the puddles in the shower tray. His arms went between her thighs, hooking under the backs of them,  and he forced his huge shoulders behind her knees. She was lifted, back sliding up the wall, and hung there, legs dangled over his back.

“Oh shit!” she exclaimed. “How the fuck do you do that?”

He didn't answer, but she was fine with that: It had been a rhetorical question and his mouth was busy now. His stubble grazed her thighs as he plunged into the crease of her pussy lips, lapping at her clit with a tongue he could have done push ups with. Heidi jerked on his face, spreading her arms for support as he flicked at the eager little button, sliding in her juices, licking up the cream that he'd spread over there. He made a noise like a growl, lips tweaking the tip, then ground his face right in like a man in a pie-eating contest, devouring her, the tendons in his neck straining.

She was making a high pitched whine, clasping her legs around his shoulders, and his hands came up hard under her ass, iron grip digging in. He was using his arms to rock her against him and she felt helpless, gravity pressing her to him, her clit tingling. Her pussy gaped open, and she needed it filled, but she was having so much fun where she was she didn't know what she wanted more.

The dilemma was solved when he reached back with his thumb, slotting into the greedy little slit, pressing against the back, and her arms swung round to grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the roots.

His thumb circled, tongue slapping at the hard pebble of her clit, and she twisted on his face.

“Holy fuck! That's….ahhhh…..”

She was going to cum, she realised - it was taking root in her belly, swelling slowly with unstoppable force, and the hand on her ass dragged her in when she tried to retreat. He jerked his chin up, battering the delicate flesh, smacking his lips together greedily.

She pulled on his hair, wailing as her climax released, a pulse that thrummed outwards in slow ripple, and she felt something flood from her, drenching his face.

“Oh shit I squirted!” she howled, hitting the wall behind her with the palm of her hand. “I fucking squirted! Oh my god!”

She sagged, her weight slumping down on his shoulders, but he was smiling up at her, chin slick with evidence, lips dripping.

“That was gooood…” she told him.

“I'm not done yet,” he said.

He was getting to his feet and she panicked, not sure whether she'd be able to stand, but she needn't have worried: He held her in place, easing his shoulders out and filling the gap with his torso as he got to his feet. She switched the cling of her legs to his waist, holding fast, and he grabbed her by the hips, the bobbing head of his hard-on brushing against her ass.

“Look at you, you big bastard,” she said. “Gonna fuck me up against the wall, huh?”

“You bet,” he said, and the serious tone sent another little thrill through her.

Heidi hadn't met the man yet that was able to do that to her, but here he was, swinging her into position over his cock. He gave an experimental nudge, tilting his pelvis, feeling his way. She helped, reaching into the cramped gap between her legs, feeling past his flat belly, guiding him.

He was in her with one deft push, easing most of the way in, and she gasped as he filled her. Lucas had had a damn fine dick but Chris’s was in a league of its own, and she felt stretched beyond anything she'd experienced. Her mouth opened in reflex, her eyes mimicking the action, and he eased back a little. The tip was still firmly seated and he only retreated a little way before plunging back in, giving her more of his length. She clung to his shoulders as he withdrew a third time, and this time his thrust carried him all the way in.

He made a noise now, self-control breaking, and his forehead rested on her shoulder. His dick was in her right up to the hilt, splitting her apart, reaching places she didn't know existed. She dug her nails into his back, climbing up his belly. He pulled back again, then pounded her back up, jiggling her back against the wall, bracing his feet apart. She had total confidence in his ability to support her, and let him find his rhythm, starting off in easy little motions, rocking her up and down.

He was panting, hot damp breaths into neck, and he gathered momentum, peeling out of her, sliding in. She was still over sensitised from her orgasm but his strokes were revving her up again, butting against her cervix, making her head reel. Her teeth rattled, a staccato castanet backdrop she couldn't stop, but still she felt like he was holding back.

“Just go for it, Chris,” she urged. “Don't worry about me - I'm tough!”

He raised his head briefly, fine features molded into a grimace.

“Don't - wanna - finish - too - soon!” he grunted, ramming her with each word, but he was picking up the pace, pushing her higher.

The hard plane of his stomach was wedged up against her, mashing her clit, but it was an afterthought: Even without that bonus she knew she was going to cum again, his cock piercing her to the centre, digging into her g-spot.

Heidi arched her back, her head slamming the tiles, flexing her thighs as he charged on. She felt weightless, detached, everything focused on that one sweet spot he was pummelling.

He ducked down, bringing his arm up under her ass, seating her firmly and using the space hed created to pull back harder, drive in deeper. She was stupefied, the series of rapid shunts he unleashed fucking every thought from her mind, and she realised he was watching her face, waiting for that moment she came again.

She tried to pull sluggish words from her mouth, to tell him to finish up without her - she'd already cum once, she wouldn't be disappointed - but before his name could slump out of her mouth she realised she wouldn't be able to say anything sensible. The force of her second climax startled her, and she was silent for this one, slapping her hands down on his shoulders, squeezing him between her thighs, and through the mist she faintly saw his look of pleased satisfaction.

She felt his own release almost simultaneously, and had a sudden image of a high pressure fire hose inside her, jetting spunk up through her body and out of the top of her head. Death by jizz. She flapped her hand up and put it on the top of her head. The noise he made was a strangled sigh she would never have expected from him. He was a big man - she'd have predicted a roar or a snarl or a growl, not this contented little whisper.

She rode it out, the heat of his cum flooding her, the beat of her heart hammering in her throat, but as she came round, crown of her head intact, she realised she was sliding down the wall.

He was sinking onto his knees, his head bowed, and for a moment she was horribly sure she'd killed him.

“Chris?” she yelped, and unwound her legs, setting her feet on the slippery floor. “You okay?”

“I'm good,” he panted. “Just….shit, just hold on a moment…”

He patted her ass comfortingly and she relaxed.

“Don't die on me,” she warned.

He laughed.

“I’m fine. Better than fine. Whoo. Been too long - almost forgot what that felt like.”

He got creakily to his feet. He was grinning, an expression that looked foreign and a bit playful on him. She'd known him less than 24 hours and so far she'd only seen his serious face.

She smiled back cautiously.

“You, uh, want some breakfast or something?” she asked, not sure what to say.

“Sounds good,” he said. “But there's no rush. Why don't you finish up here and I'll make some coffee?”

She nodded dumbly, and with a brief kiss on the cheek he left the shower.

 

Heidi was convinced he'd be gone by the time she'd finished, but as she wandered into the kitchen towelling her hair he was there, bustling around. She stifled a giggle. He was making breakfast, and all he needed was a little frilly apron to look perfect.

“You need to shop,” he said. “Cupboards are as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s.”

“I usually skip breakfast,” she said, and he stared at her in horror as though she'd just told him she normally strangled a puppy every morning. 

“And don't tell me it's the most important meal of the day!” she said, seeing him about to speak. “You're not my mother!”

“If it was I'd tan your hide,” he muttered, and she felt a delicious little shiver run through her.

“Anyway, you should probably hydrate yourself,” he suggested, turning to her with a large glass in his hand.

“Normal people say ‘drink some water’,” said Heidi, but she took the glass from him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A lot better than I expected to feel this morning,” she told him. “But I think that had something to do with you…..What?”

His back was to her, but she could feel his hesitancy, and suddenly she was worried he'd regretted his frivolous fling.

“I read Lucas’s note. I hope you don't mind,” he said.

Heidi let out her pent up breath.

“Oh. Well he's dead now, so knock yourself out.”

“It certainly didn't read like the rantings of a homicidal psychopath,” said Chris. “Seems like you were right about him. But so was I. He was both of those people. When I met him, he was a monster.”

He paused.

“And I probably shouldn't say this, but I use the word ‘monster’ literally.”

Heidi looked at him curiously but he didn't seem inclined to elaborate. She shrugged. She hated the misuse of the word ‘literally’ but he seemed to be grammatically earnest.

“I'm not going to tell my company about your full involvement. I've already buried some of the paperwork. It doesn't matter now, and the Lucas you knew wasn't the one I did.”

“Would I have been in some kind of trouble?”

“No, but they would have watched you. Been suspicious. And I can't have that.”

“Why not?”

He turned to face her, and was it her imagination or did he look bashful…?

“Because I was hoping I could carry on seeing you. If that's okay with you.”

Heidi thought about walking round town with this big hunk of a man. Of him turning up at the library when she'd finished work. Of him seeing her off in the morning with a decent breakfast and a whole gallon of spunk inside her.

“If that's okay with me? Are you kidding?” she squealed with delight. “I can't wait till Valerie at the library gets a load of you! Old bitch will lose her shit! Do me a favour - take me into work this afternoon and drop me off at the front desk. Give me a big, French kiss when you do it and there's a blow job in it for you later. This is going to be  _ fun _ .”


End file.
